


Delicious

by pinkstarpirate



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto is an upstanding dude who is gonna be there for you if you're his friend, M/M, Osamu is just the best boy ever chef extraordinaire, mentions of background bokuroo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkstarpirate/pseuds/pinkstarpirate
Summary: What began as Akaashi getting away from the stress of his career by visiting Bokuto every other weekend, ends up being the beginning of something romantic with a certain onigiri chef.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 117





	Delicious

“I have practice this afternoon, you sure you’ll be alright until I’m done?” Bokuto asks Keiji as he picks up his gym bag and hoists it over his right shoulder. 

Keiji smiles and nods, slipping his own shoes on as he stands next to Bokuto in the genkan. He silently thanks his best friend for allowing him to stay with him so frequently. Keiji’s work had been getting more and more stressful. A few months ago, Keiji began having nightmares about literally being sucked into Tenma’s canceled horror manga. At least now Tenma had started a new series about, of all things, volleyball, which Keiji is surprisingly helpful with, but the change still doesn't relieve enough pressure of his job.

Bokuto, being Bokuto, a warm and generous human being, had given Keiji an open invitation to stay with him any weekend when his boyfriend Kuroo Tetsurou wasn’t down, which due to JVA responsibilities, happened only every other weekend. Keiji remembers that first weekend he took the bullet train down on Friday, sleeping that first night in Bokuto’s guest room, feeling like he was imposing on his friend. However, he’d apparently been in obvious distress, because he received a text from Kuroo that Monday saying that he and Bokuto were throwing a party that weekend and Keiji should come down again, despite it being Kuroo’s weekend. Keiji truly did appreciate and like Tetsurou, but vowed to never tell Kuroo, because where was the fun in that? After those first two weekends, it just felt normal to travel to Higashiosaka every other week, relaxing and ignoring Tenma’s desperate messages via text and email, work purposely forgotten until Monday morning.  
  
“I’m going to head over to Onigiri Miya for a late lunch,” Keiji says as he pulls on his sweater cardigan.

Bokuto gives Keiji a knowing smile. “It’s always slow there on Saturday afternoons, isn’t it? I’m sure Samu appreciates the company.”

During his last visit, Keiji had been one of only three customers there, and he had been alone at the counter seats, giving him a rather intimate experience at the little onigiri restaurant. Keiji appreciates Osamu’s counter set-up. There is a glass partition between him and the customer, but it does allow for customers to look right in at the chef preparing their onigiri. 

Keiji and Bokuto make their wait down the outside stairs from the third floor. “I’ll see you later,” Bokuto says with a big grin as he waves at Keiji. 

Bokuto’s apartment is only about a ten minute walk to the athletic complex where the Black Jackals practice, and it is only about a fifteen minute walk from Onigiri Miya in the opposite direction. Prime real estate for a hungry athlete like Bokuto. Keiji waves back at his friend and begins his trek to Onigiri Miya. 

It is a cool October day, but sunny enough for Keiji to get away with his single extra layer. He keeps the pace brisk until he arrives at Miya Osamu’s restaurant. The door jingles, shaking a bell hanging near the top, as Keiji swings it open. No one is at the front counter, but a moment later Osamu pokes his head out of the back.  
  
“Oh! Akaashi-san, I’ll be with ya in jus’ a minute. I need a quick restock of some ingredients from the back. Sit wherever ya’d like,” Osamu says, disappearing into the back of the small restaurant again. 

Keiji takes off his sweater and places it on the back of his chair. Osamu keeps the temperature nice and toasty in the main eating area. Like last time, Keiji seats himself at the counter. A quick glance around confirms that there are no other customers. Keiji supposes that’s normal for 2:30 pm on a Saturday afternoon.

“Okay, got what I needed,” Osamu says as he plops down a couple of small containers on the counter next to the prep station. He walks over to the wash basin and gives his hands a quick scrub. The second thing he does is pour a cold beer from the tap and sets it out for Keiji to take. “You gettin’ the regular today? Or do ya wanna sample a few of my new creations?”

Keiji smiles, placing the beer next to himself, leaning forward in order to prop his head up in his hand as he watches Osamu work. “A little of this, a little of that,” he answers cryptically, knowing that whatever winds up on his plate, he’ll eat it all. Osamu already knows the few ingredients that Keiji dislikes.

“You up for a little something _spicy_?” Osamu asks, emphasizing the word spicy as he sets the earthenware pot to cooking the rice on a burner located on the far right side of the prep station. 

Keiji is still amazed with how Osamu cooks rice to order, and always in that same earthenware pot passed down from his grandmother. The best rice, made right, made to order. During the lunch rush, the rice is usually cooked already, ready to meet the lunch rush's needs; but during the slower times of the day, like 2:30 on a Saturday, Osamu prepares a fresh batch, ensuring that his onigiri are the absolute best they can be.

“I could use a little spice in my life,” Keiji says coyly, and it makes Osamu give him the infamous Miya lopsided grin. 

The two of them have spent months flirting. Keiji can now say with surety that it is not just in his head, possibly because he made Bokuto pester Atsumu about his brother’s preferences until Bokuto found out that, yes, Miya Osamu is indeed interested in men and possibly interested in Keiji in particular.

Akaashi almost snorted when Bokuto had told him a few weeks ago, “Tsumu told me that Samu thought you and me were together, ‘Kaashi.”

“Please pass the word along that we are not,” Keiji had said, not unkindly, to his best friend.

“Already did,” Bokuto had replied. “Tets would be real mad at me if the two of us had a side thing.”

Keiji sighs as he recalls the conversation. He has never understood Kuroo’s slight jealousy where he and Bokuto were concerned. Sure, he and Bokuto are close friends, and have been for almost a decade, but Keiji wants a man he doesn’t have to baby in their relationship. Bokuto is looking to be babied. Let Kuroo and Bokuto coddle each other, that wasn’t Keiji’s idea of romance. 

“Want any starters while the rice cooks?” Osamu asks as he returns to the spot of the counter right in front of Keiji. “Or are you saving room for onigiri specifically?”

Honestly, Keiji actually prefers to save room, but he so loves watching Osamu work.

“Surprise me,” he says with a grin, and the expression is immediately mirrored by Osamu as he pulls out a plate and a block of fresh tofu, pressed and ready to use, and cuts off a slice. 

The large slice is then further divided into smaller rectangles. Osamu mixes a quick marinade in a small bowl and plops the pieces into it, moving on to prepare the next part of his creation as the tofu absorbs whatever delicious flavors the marinade will impart. Keiji is spellbound by the art this man creates, and grateful that he gets to eat the art when it is done. It doesn’t hurt that Osamu does everything while also stuffed into a tight black t-shirt, dark bluejeans, with a black apron tied around his waist and a ballcap on his head. Keiji watches the way the tendons and muscles move in Osamu’s forearms, and honestly, he probably shouldn’t be so openly consuming the vision that is Miya Osamu, but it is as delicious as the food. 

After a quick fry, some delectable looking garnishes, and a drizzle of sauce, the tofu plate is placed in front of Keiji, who thanks Osamu for the food and digs it. The crunchy outside is salty and sweet and sour from the sauce, the inside melts in Keiji’s mouth. Only Osamu’s handmade onigiri surpasses his homemade tofu. 

“Yer making sounds, Akaashi. Can I assume they’re compliments to the chef?”

Keiji quiets the happy moan he didn’t even realize he was making before nodding. “Definitely my compliments,” he says, cheeks warming as he takes the next piece into his mouth. It brings the same delight as the first, but Keiji is more careful to not make eating tofu sound pornographic this time around.

Osamu leaves to check the rice, which has been burbling in the pot for the last few minutes. It isn’t quite to his liking yet, because he sets the lid partially askew and goes back to his spot in front of Keiji. 

“Are ya gonna be around tomorrow too? Or do ya gotta head back to Tokyo?” Osamu asks quietly, his hands wringing the fabric of his apron. 

Oh, those hands, Keiji muses to himself. Those hands that are broad and strong, with long, calloused fingers, probably calloused palms, the skin rough, but the touch gentle enough to not crush a single grain of rice. Keiji swallows thickly, reaching for his beer for relief. After a long, slow sip, Keiji shakes his head. 

“No, I’m catching a very early train on Monday morning.”

More and more, Keiji tries to make his bi-monthly vacations last as long as possible, even if it makes for a very long Monday in the office. At least he can sleep on the train as it takes him back to Tokyo.

This seems to be the answer Osamu wants to hear, as he releases the balled fabric from his hands. He looks over at the pot of rice and goes to it as he says over his shoulder. “Sunday is my day off. I was wonderin’ if I could show ya around town? I know ya might have plans with Bokuto.”  
  
Bokuto has already shown Keiji around town several times, but Osamu doesn’t need to know that. And any plans Keiji had with Bokuto could definitely be postponed and/or canceled. Bokuto will more than understand. Not to mention, Bokuto likes being able to sleep in on Sundays, and next week Kuroo is visiting, like always, so no extra sleep next weekend for sure. 

“I’d love a tour,” Keiji says as he watches Osamu carefully put the rice in a bowl to cool off before starting on the onigiri.

There seems to be a significant increase to the pep in Osamu’s steps, his movement happy and relieved. He grins as he presses the filling into the center of the rice. He gives Keiji a quick glance and then full-on smiles as he forms the rice into the right shape and wraps it in nori. 

“We’ll start with the non-spicy ones so they don’t blow yer tastebuds,” Osamu says as he hands Keiji a plate with two onigiri. “I hope ya got a big appetite. There’s two more comin’.”

Keiji barely hears the second part, because he is already happily taking a bite of onigiri stuffed with some kind of pickled something. He’s not sure what it is, but he doesn’t care either. It is simply delicious. He looks up to compliment Osamu again, only to find the other man watching him, his smile something soft and fond.

“I jus’ wanna make sure ya understood that I was askin’ fer a date tomorrow,” Osamu says as he hands Keiji another plate with two more onigiri. Keiji muses about how he’ll probably explode from all the delicious food.

“I was hoping that was what it was going to be,” Keiji replies between bites.

There is a small pause, but then Osamu, nerves apparent in his voice, asks, “Would it be too presumptuous of me to invite ya over to my apartment afterwards? I’d love to cook for ya, if that’s okay.”

Okay? Yes, that is definitely okay, but Keiji just smirks and raises an eyebrow in reply.

“Jus’ dinner, no hanky panky or whatever,” Osamu says worriedly, moving to quickly clean up his station, thinking he might have suggested the wrong thing.

Osamu practically chokes when Keiji responds by asking, “What if I want the hanky panky?”

“I’d be happy to oblige,” Osamu says, face red all the way to the tips of his ears.

Keiji might have kept torturing poor Osamu if not for the familiar tinkling sound of the bell above the door, signaling the arrival of more customers. A group of teenage girls file in and fill a booth by the window. They are obviously regulars, because one of the girls comes up with an order slip a few minutes after getting settled, their selections marked off on the small sheet of paper. Instead of teasing Osamu, Keiji finishes his last two onigiri, and with his mouth still burning—Osamu didn’t lie about these onigiri being spicy—he pays for his bill despite Osamu’s objections and readies himself to leave.

“What time are you picking me up outside Bokuto’s apartment complex tomorrow?” Keiji asks with a subtle grin.

“I’m an early riser, so if nine ain’t too early for ya, I’ll be there then,” Osamu replies as he hands Keiji his change.

“A whole day affair? I see,” Keiji says, his lips curling into a bigger grin. “I can’t wait.”

When Keiji returns to Bokuto’s apartment, his friend is already there, splayed out on the couch. Keiji removes his shoes and places his cardigan on the hook by the door.

“How were the onigiri today?” Bokuto asks as he cranes his head to look up from his spot. 

Keiji joins Bokuto and sits on one of the plush chairs before simply replying, “Delicious.”


End file.
